


The Game is Afoot

by Rycolfan (Snarryeyes)



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Crack, M/M, Post Whose Line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Rycolfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colin's day with Ryan takes a dramatic turn...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game is Afoot

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Whose-A-Thon prompt involving a certain WL game. You'll see.

It was still dark when Colin woke, but that didn’t mean anything. Ryan was particularly sensitive to light when he slept, so he’d fixed thick heavy curtains over the bedroom windows to shut the morning sun out. It was sometimes a little disorientating for Colin, not being able to tell whether it was too early to get up or whether he’d overslept. Admittedly the latter wasn’t very likely, but it was still a possibility—especially when he returned from a tour and Ryan kept him up for most of the night.

Colin carefully stretched his legs, disentangling them from Ryan’s in the process, and reached for his bedside clock. A quick press of the button on top flashed the time into the darkness. 8:37. He settled back into the warmth of his pillow, casting a look towards Ryan’s shadowed face. He was still fast asleep; at least, he seemed to be—Colin could just make out Ryan’s closed eyelids, long lashes lying still against his cheek. Colin looked past him to the dim outline of the curtains, a myriad of thoughts tumbling over one another in his waking mind. What kind of day lay beyond them? It had been unusually rainy lately. They’d have to sort out the hole in the porch roof today… but breakfast first. There was bacon in the refrigerator that needed using. Perhaps he should just start cooking now—the smell was sure to wake Ryan from his bear-like hibernation.

As if sensing his name in Colin’s thoughts, Ryan stirred. His body crept back towards Colin’s and, finding it, he hummed contentedly. Watching him, Colin was reminded of a cat they’d had once, who had done nothing but go from one nap to another. After a long moment, Ryan’s eyelids cracked open.

“Sleep well?”

“Breakfast?”

They both grinned at their perfectly synchronized questions, and then Ryan took on a more mischievous look. He shifted so that he was lying half across Colin, lowering his head to softly bite an expanse of pale neck. “Can I have _you_ for breakfast?”

Colin’s response was halfway between a chuckle and a moan. “Didn’t you have me for dinner last night?”

Ryan, getting into his stride, immediately countered with, “Are you complaining?”

Colin smiled, dragging Ryan’s head up so that he could get a proper good morning kiss. “Isn’t it a little early for games?”

“What would you prefer?” Ryan purred, darting his tongue out to swipe it across Colin’s lips.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Would you like a list of options?”

“There’s a list?”

“Do you want to hear it?”

“Is it long?”

“Are we still talking about the list?”

“What—" Colin suddenly frowned, snapping his mouth shut. Ryan started to say something, and then pulled back with a similar look of consternation. He shifted onto his knees, dragging the sheets back, and flicked the light on. When he looked back down at Colin, it was with a kind of dawning realization that filled the older man with an overwhelming sense of foreboding.

“You can’t stop either, can you?”

 

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Greg said, holding up his free hand—in the other was a cup of fresh coffee, which had been handed to him apologetically upon his arrival in a distinctly sleep-deprived state. “Since you woke up this morning, you can only speak in questions?”

Colin started to reply, but quickly changed it to a simple nod of the head. It had been an incredibly frustrating morning trying to explain, trying to assure Greg that it wasn’t an elaborate joke, not helped in the slightest by the person Greg had chosen to bring along.

“That’s awesome,” Brad snickered. He had found a bag of popcorn in the cupboard and sat down at the kitchen table to watch the impromptu show, munching happily. Ryan was sitting opposite, pinching the bridge of his nose. At Brad’s comment, he looked up and glowered across the table. Colin decided to intercede quickly.

“Brad?” He had intended it to be a severe reprimand, but his tone lilted upwards, of its own accord, to form yet another question.

Brad looked over at him, swallowing his mouthful and schooling his expression to one of complete innocence. “What?”

Colin narrowed his eyes, not fooled in the slightest. “Could you be a little more helpful, please?”

“What do you expect _me_ to do?” Brad asked, throwing his hands up and scattering popcorn across the floor.

“Don’t you start with the questions, man,” Greg warned Brad, draining his cup. “It’s bad enough with these two.”

Sighing heavily, Colin started clearing up the mess. “Did you _have_ to bring him along, Greg?” 

Upon realizing their predicament earlier, he and Ryan had spent the best part of an hour trying to figure out what to do, finally settling on calling Greg in to help. He was closest to them in age, therefore less prone to an immature response, and, of course, one of their very best friends. But they hadn’t counted on Brad showing up, too.

“I didn’t,” Greg answered, looking equally resigned to Brad’s presence. “He overheard and couldn’t suppress his overwhelming urge to see for himself.”

Colin had to admit that he probably would have been curious, too—it had been a distinctly odd telephone conversation, for obvious reasons. Ryan grunted into his coffee in response, while Brad merely shrugged and carried on eating.

“Is it safe to ask why he was over at your place?” Colin asked, raising his eyebrows at Greg with the hint of a smirk. Only being able to ask questions did have certain advantages.

Greg wrinkled his nose. “Dude, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.”

“Hey, I am still here, you know,” Brad said, waving.

“Like we could forget,” Greg quipped. “The truth is he was too drunk to drive last night after the gig, so I said he could crash at mine.”

Colin instantly remembered that Greg had been doing a live gig downtown, in Bar Lubitsch, the night before; there was always an open invitation for any of the guys to join him. Every now and again, he and Ryan would head down there to cheer him on and heckle in equal measure.

“Can we get back to the important questions?” Ryan cut in. “Like what the hell is going on?”

Having cleared the floor and thrown the popcorn into the trash, Colin returned to stand behind Ryan and started a soothing massage of his tense shoulders. Their easy, care-free day seemed to have gone out the window.

Greg took a sip of coffee and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Well, it’s obviously not a widespread phenomenon because I’m not affected and neither is curious kitty over there.”

“So, what does that leave?” Colin asked, brow furrowed. “… Unless we’re still dreaming?”

Brad promptly reached across and pinched Colin’s hand, receiving a loud curse in return.

“Nah, you’re awake.”

“What did I do to deserve a friend like you?” Colin said drily, rubbing the red mark left on his skin.

“You lucked out, buddy,” Brad grinned, patently ignoring Ryan’s deepening scowl. “I’m not sure I’d want to feature in your dreams, though. No offense.”

Having had enough, Ryan cut across him to address Greg. “Why is it only the two of us are affected?

“Damned if I know.”

“Don’t you have any ideas?” Colin asked worriedly, his hands stilling on Ryan’s shoulders.

“Yeah, come on, Greg,” Brad said, tossing his empty popcorn bag into the trash and missing by several inches. “You’re supposed to be the smartest man in the world.”

Greg ignored him, addressing Colin and Ryan. “The only thing I can think of—and this is a leap beyond the realms of logic and common sense—is that it’s a curse of some kind.”

“A curse?” Colin repeated, frowning. “You mean voodoo?” 

Brad instantly rejoined with, “Who do?” and paid for it with a hefty clip round the head from Colin.

“But who’d want to curse us?” Ryan asked over Brad’s protestations.

Greg shrugged, helping himself to more coffee. “Could be anyone; a snubbed fan, a crazy stalker, hell, it could even be that asshole driver who you got into an argument with the other day.”

Colin remembered the incident well. The man in question had been built like an ox and heavily tattooed; he really hadn’t seemed the type to be into the occult.

“Or it could just be someone with a warped sense of humour,” Greg added, bringing the refilled cup to his lips.

Colin decided to get to the heart of the matter. “What can we do about it?”

Greg had to swallow before answering. “Well, if it _is_ a curse, I do know someone who might be able to help. It’s a place to start, at least.”

Ryan gave a decisive nod and abruptly stood up, grabbing his keys. “Okay, can we go then?”

They were halfway out of the door when Colin spotted two familiar figures approaching. He immediately rounded on Brad accusingly.

“What?” Brad asked, wide-eyed. Colin simply continued to stare at him, waiting. “Okay, I _may_ have called them on the way over.”

“What? No Wayne?” Ryan asked sarcastically, closing the door behind him.

“Nah, he’s out of town.”

“What’s going on?” Chip asked brightly, crossing the lawn.

Jeff, a step behind, added, “We were promised weirdness, so you guys had better deliver. I could be in bed right now.”

“Couldn’t we all?” Colin muttered, taking the keys out of Ryan’s hand to unlock their SUV.

“Oh, it’s weird all right,” Brad smirked.

“Can we talk on the way, please?” Ryan snapped irritably, gesturing to the car as Colin started the engine.

“Where are we going?” Chip asked curiously, climbing in along with the rest of them.

“To the mysterious land of Haiti, my friend,” Greg replied, pulling the door shut behind him. “Or, you know, the downtown L.A. equivalent. Less heat, more drug users.”

 

It wasn’t the most relaxing drive. Brad quickly filled Jeff and Chip in on the situation, with entirely too much glee for Colin’s liking, and then proceeded to attempt to show them the curse in action by trying to engage Colin and Ryan in conversation. Ryan didn’t play along, but his expression grew steadily darker as he stared out of the passenger side window. Colin reached across to lay a hand on his leg supportively, while keeping his eyes on the road ahead. It had dawned brighter than the day before, but clouds had steadily drifted in from the ocean, and, as Colin turned right at an intersection, the first few drops of rain splashed across the windshield.

Predictably, Chip and Jeff asked the same questions that Ryan and Colin had asked—why, how, and who? Colin let Greg deal with them, staring through the thickening curtain of rain with a frown as he tried to figure out the answers.

“It’s a bit like that Jim Carrey movie with the truth curse,” Brad said loudly, his words breaking Colin out of his thoughts. “I could have had fun with that…”

“Can you be serious, Brad?” Colin admonished, turning to glare at his touring partner while squeezing Ryan’s leg to prevent a premeditated murder. “Have you forgotten that we’re doing Drew’s show in three days?”

“Nope, I’m looking forward to it,” Brad grinned shamelessly. Colin gave up.

“Man, you guys would ace Questions Only,” Chip remarked. Colin shot Chip a look in the rear-view mirror that immediately had him looking contrite. “Sorry. Not helpful.”

Colin noticed that Jeff was sitting silently with his head down, fingers flying over his phone. “Jeff?” he said, a warning note in his voice. He knew, only too well, how much Jeff liked to tweet about everything that went on in his daily life.

Jeff glanced up, confusion clouding his eyes for a split second before he caught on. “Oh, I haven’t said anything about you guys,” he assured them, “just our impromptu road trip.”

Chip leaned into him, peering at the phone, and snorted. “You might want to check your autocorrect, Jeff… unless you really are in need of a vagina latte.”

“Fucking thing,” Jeff cursed, jabbing at the screen. “Vanilla!”

There was a smattering of sniggers from the other occupants of the car; even Ryan’s mouth twitched upwards and, although he continued to stare out of the side window, he moved his hand to lightly cover Colin’s where it was still resting on his thigh. Colin smiled, tuning out the inevitable jibes aimed at Jeff in the back.

 

The shop they entered a short time later was pretty much what Colin had envisaged when Greg had mentioned it earlier; it was small and dimly lit, the air heavily perfumed with an odd, cloying scent, and strange objects crowded the shelves. Some even hung from the ceiling, so that Ryan had to dodge and duck them on their way to the counter.

There was a small bell sitting beside the cash register, which Greg promptly tapped once. A tinkling sound echoed from somewhere beyond the doorway behind the counter, which was obscured by a curtain of beads. Moments later, a short dark-skinned woman emerged, wearing a number of shawls despite the stuffy heat of the shop. Dark eyes travelled across the group, her passive expression only breaking when they landed on Greg.

“Gregory,” she smiled, her thick Caribbean accent noticeable at once.

Greg gave her an easy smile in return. “Hello, my darling.”

“It has been too long. These are your friends?”

Greg nodded. “Ryan, Colin, Jeff, Chip,” he began, pointing them out in turn, “and Brad, but you might want to ignore him. Guys, this is Martine.”

They all said hello politely, although Ryan and Colin found themselves adding a, “How are you?” to the end of their greeting and Brad was pretending to look offended. 

“That’s just mean, Greg.” 

His expression instantly changed to one of excitement as he spotted something on the wall behind the counter. “Awesome; voodoo dolls! I’ve always wanted to stick pins in one of those to see what happens.”

Martine followed his gaze. “Those dolls are used to promote positive influences, such as love, prosperity, and good health. Are you in need of those?”

“Oh,” Brad said, looking a little awkward under her gaze. “No, I’m good.”

“It’s the tall one and the bald one who need help, Martine,” Greg cut in, and he went on to explain the situation. Colin found that he didn’t have the energy to glare at Greg for the insult; he was too anxious about whether or not Martine could help.

“It sounds like it could be a curse,” Martine said, studying Ryan and Colin thoughtfully. “It may only last a few days—it would a lot of power to maintain that sort of magic—but I can try to minimize it if you like.”

Ryan was looking highly sceptical about the whole thing; he’d hardly spoken since they’d arrived. Colin couldn’t say that he was particularly convinced either, but he could see no alternative at this point. He took Ryan’s hand and looked at Martine.

“Sure, why not?”

“Come through to the back room,” Martine said, gesturing to the beaded doorway. “Just the two affected,” she amended, as the others started to follow. “This magic is delicate.”

Brad’s expression fell to one of disappointment. As Colin pushed past the hanging beads, he clearly heard Jeff say, “Don’t worry about it, man. You can still play with the dolls.”

 

It was even darker and stuffier in the back room. A circular table, covered with a blood-red tablecloth, sat under a single hanging light, dark shadows encroaching on all sides. Martine drew three straight-backed chairs to the table, indicating that Ryan and Colin should sit. They did so, watching, with a certain amount of apprehension, as she fetched several items and laid them on the table; black and white candles, matches, several small black velvet bags, and a silver dish.

“I will need a little of your hair,” she murmured, withdrawing a small pair of silver scissors from one of the bags. She looked up and smiled at their identical wary expressions. “Only a little.”

Colin shrugged. “I’ve got plenty, right?” he said, his sarcasm softened with a smile.

Martine took a few strands from behind his ear, and the same from Ryan, then seated herself opposite them. Colin felt Ryan’s hand enclose his under the table.

 

When asked about it later, Colin couldn’t quite explain what had happened and it seemed that Ryan was equally bewildered. It was like they had been put into some kind of trance, waking only when Martine got to her feet and told them it was done.

“How long will it take?” Colin asked when it became clear that the curse was still in full effect.

“Perhaps tomorrow, if you are lucky,” Martine replied, waving away Greg’s offer of payment. “Here,” she added, taking a small doll down from the shelf that Brad had been looking at earlier. “This will protect you from future curses; keep it in your home.”

Colin couldn’t say he wasn’t glad to be out of there and into the fresh air, the sun now breaking through the clouds, but he was thankful for Martine’s help. He just hoped it had worked. Spending the rest of his life in questions was not an enjoyable prospect.

Brad seemed to think it was his personal mission to break them out of the curse himself, bombarding then with questions on the way home. Either that or he was trying to short circuit Ryan’s brain, which, considering Ryan was in the driver’s seat, was not particularly wise. It was only when Ryan threatened to turn the car around and ask Martine for a silence curse that Brad finally admitted defeat.

Colin politely declined all offers from the guys to stick around when they got home. He wasn’t physically disabled, after all, and there were still things to do. He also thought it best that Ryan was given some peace and quiet, after a very trying morning. Promising to update them with any news, Colin headed into the house after Ryan and set about making lunch. He didn’t know about Ryan but his own stomach was grumbling loudly after having barely had any breakfast. They’d just been too unnerved by the situation to eat.

Whipping up a simple but tasty salad, Colin took the plates out to the backyard where he found Ryan sitting in one of the comfy recliners. The sun was shining without hindrance now, and the ground had all but dried in the space of an hour.

“Lunch?” he said, holding one plate out. Ryan shook his head but Colin did not withdraw his hand. “For me?” he asked, more gently.

Ryan looked up then, his expression softening around the edges, and he accepted the plate without further protest.

A little later, once their plates were empty and their stomachs full, Colin grabbed a blanket and laid it on the grass in the shade of a large oak, sitting down upon it and patting the space next to him invitingly. Ryan smiled. Unfolding his long legs, he stood and covered the distance in only a few strides.

They spent the rest of the afternoon lying in each other’s arms peacefully, without needing to speak. Colin knew that the only question on both of their minds was the same—what if this curse never goes away? He didn’t let himself think about it, pressing his face against Ryan’s chest to lose himself in his senses instead—inhaling the warm soothing scent of Ryan’s skin, feeling the rise and fall of each breath, the steady drumbeat of Ryan’s heart beneath his ear, Ryan’s arms holding him tightly, an occasional feather-light touch of lips to his head. Colin closed his eyes, the sound of the wind in the boughs above gently accompanying the rhythm in his mind. If he had nothing else in life, he would be happy with this.

 

Colin woke to darkness, disorientated until he realized he was in bed. He reached for his bedside clock and pressed the button on top to see the time. 8:40. They had both turned in early the night before, after being chased into the house by the return of rain. A hot shower had turned hotter with a release of tension, and after that they’d both been too exhausted to do much but fall into bed. Now it was morning; the moment of truth.

Ryan stirred next to him and woke abruptly, turning to stare at Colin with foggy eyes. For several minutes they simply looked at each other apprehensively, neither wanting to be the first to talk. Finally, Ryan broke the deadlock. “Are you okay?”

Colin hesitated, wetting his lips before attempting a response. 

“I’m… fine.”

He stopped, his eyes widening. There had been no lilt, no question, only a clear statement. “I’m fine!” he repeated, breaking into a huge grin. It faltered only slightly when he remembered that Ryan had yet to do the same. “How about you?”

“Yeah…” Ryan nodded, carefully testing his own speech, “I’m good.”

Relieved beyond measure, they met in a tangle of limbs, kissing and laughing and shouting statements to the ceiling. 

The phone rang several times that morning, but was never picked up. Eventually, after yet another interruption, Colin grabbed his phone from the bedside table and text Greg before firmly turning it off. He was quickly pulled back into Ryan’s waiting arms, the phone falling to the floor as the screen went black.

_The game has ended. Buzz us out._

 

End.


End file.
